Tuesday, August 1, 2006, 12:41 AM
A darker mood. I was told that a kind, interesting and intelligent man who I had had the pleasure of working with took his own life yesterday. Never would I have guessed that something like this could happen to someone like this. I don't know what of the many things I could wish for with someone in this situation. I don't think that words will do the job this time, but you will be missed.
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Friday, July 28, 2006, 02:32 AM
Tonight saw the farewell party for my colleague Duncan, who is spreading his wings and flying Down Under for a new life. The company turned out in force, boarding a special 'party bus', which is basically a London double decker with some balloons and a portable karaoke amp. Ought to try that more often. The assembled guests seemed rather happy with the arrangement as we sped into the West End, particularly Messrs Hoshino and Saigusa.
An evening full of merriment, burgers, alcohol and silly singing, the assembled Fuji-ites got straight on with the business of getting as thoroughly off their proverbial mammaries as possible. It may have been a school night, but the last tube home came and went, and we ended up in a place called Ruby Blue in Leicester Square. This club was chock full of ladies and boys whose level of availability was scrawled right across their desperate faces as they nervously put away the WKDs. It's only when you are familiar with London cab prices that you realise that the need to pull someone can have significant financial benefits as well. Not for the first time, I felt a little old for it all, and decided to make a move for the night bus.
Perched on the top deck on the way home, I sat by the CCTV monitor, and reflected on how we only ever see this grainy security footage of people who have either done something bad, or had something bad happen to them. The girl in the picture here is an exercise in simply portraying a normal human being through the eyes of a CCTV camera. But still, you can't help look at it without getting that faintly sinister feeling of foreboding.
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Monday, July 24, 2006, 10:13 PM
Impending fatherhood is one of the major events that has made me want to start this whole writing thing.
I was in the supermarket today and picked up an item of food where the best before date is after the due date of our baby. That is quite a big moment, believe me. If you want to try it for yourself, the effect is particularly strong in the fresh pasta aisle of Sainsburys.
Spent the weekend in Germany with Mayke, and each time I see her, it has grown. By a couple of milliseconds, the tummy tends to be the first thing to enter the room, closely followed by Mayke herself. It is neither pointed forwards, nor really wide - it's just very rounded. I feel the kicks and the odd movement - however all that Mayke seems to be worried about at this point is that the little one may have a head the size of mine. Personally, I'm trying to remain optimistic.
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Monday, July 24, 2006, 12:59 AM
A view of a Sunday night spent at altitude. Whilst others gather in front of televisions to absorb light-hearted drama, I have a seat situated several miles above Germany, Holland and then the North Sea. The Ryanair flight's soundtrack is occasional shriek of an infant, the rattle of trolleys and the dull thrum of the engines. The excesses of Hamburg's night-time fun finally catches up with the weekend's detachments of lads and lasses who doze away, their heads falling back against the headrests whilst their mouths fall open, gawping at God-knows what they saw last night.
And if you look out of the window, you'll see the end of the day peeling away from the edge of the horizon in the north west. For a moment, you feel like a space traveller; you feel like Major Tom in the Bowie song, about to describe a beautiful planetary phenomenon happening before your eyes. And then a stewardess comes by one final time with the trolley, announcing a promotion on Beyonce's new perfume. You're being brought back to earth in approximately ten minutes.
Photographic note - this is not a double exposure. This is what happens when you give up trying to eliminate the reflection in the window, and decide to let it in.
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Friday, July 21, 2006, 12:41 AM
Very unwisely, I had agreed to take part in this evening's City of London road race. At the time I was a) unaware of how hot it would be today and b) of how little training I would squeeze in. Five kilometers of progressive torture. Like running on a microwave turntable set to 72 rpm.
The square mile's less rotund bodies turned out in their running gear, heart monitors and sweatbands, but I don't think anyone could foresee how hard it would get. People were pulling over all the time, and the ambulance crews had more than a couple of runners to attend to. I just ran as fast as I felt comfortable with, which meant that I almost walked across the finish line. Still - I didn't stop, and that's all that I cared about. 26 point something minutes...
I'm not normally one to be going up to celebrities to get my photo taken - for some people, it comes across as a bit tragic. For me, it's merely that I so rarely come across them. I literally had to squeeze past Paula Radcliffe on the way out, and she agreed to have a quick pic (which my camera managed to screw up, just this once).
Such a hazardous manoeuvre for a celebrity though, isn't it? She poses with me, completely unaware of who I am, whether I am a mentalist or not, or indeed whether I am the type to publish a ficticious online interview about 'recommended strategies for runners' loo breaks'. Which would be wrong, and I won't do that.
You can just notice that she has not actually rested her hand on my shoulder - it is merely hovering - pretending to be friendly. That is great media training. Or it could just be that I was very, very sweaty.
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